


Falling from the Edge

by anr



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-03
Updated: 2012-03-03
Packaged: 2017-11-04 11:11:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anr/pseuds/anr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Tony and Ziva fell asleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling from the Edge

Despite the late hour, he doesn't plan on falling asleep anytime soon. Maybe even at all. He has phone records to search through still, suspect financials to study, witness statements to check. He has Ziva in a white shirt with a ninety percent chance of rain sometime around midnight, and a hot date with Charlton Heston on Blu-ray as soon as he can wrap up this case. So, no. No planning on sleep.

Ziva, on the other hand...

To be honest, he has a great prank in mind. Absolutely epic. He's been planning it for awhile now, hoping for a night just like tonight, a night where she falls before he can, a night following a day where they've played off each other's strengths and hit every partnership high note just right from sunup to sundown, and, really, it'd be an absolute waste of an opportunity if he _didn't_ follow through on it right now. Practically criminal. Even the fact that there's no witnesses around at the moment -- Gibbs and McGee are in MTAC, Abby and Ducky and Palmer are downstairs -- can't alter the perfectness of this pranking window.

Standing beside her desk, he studies the way her hair falls across her cheek, the curve of her fingers lying beside her face, the arch of her neck and back as she leans over her desk and uses her mousepad for a pillow.

She looks calm. Relaxed. Not peaceful, per se. Just...

Reaching over her, he flicks off her desk light and then heads back over to his side of the office, taking a seat and leaning back just enough to place his feet on the edge of his desk. Dragging his keyboard onto his lap, he pulls up the good Captain Emerson's GPS history and finds the last location Ziva was looking at before she fell asleep.

 _Maybe later_ , he thinks.

  


* * *

  


When he wakes, thunder is pounding across his temples and sunlight like lightning is flicking across his eyelids.

He's pretty sure he's dead.

"You are not dead," she says, and he groans.

"Please?"

"No."

Summoning what feels like the absolute dregs of his strength and control, he turns in his armchair so that he's facing away from the window and opens his eyes.

Ziva stares back at him from her position on his couch.

He closes his eyes again. "At least tell me you feel just like how I probably look."

"I am not sure that is possible." He listens as she shifts on the couch. "But I can tell you that I think the tequila was probably not our best decision."

They drank _tequila_? The last thing he remembers swallowing was half of her bottle of beer. And his beer. And --

He groans again. "Next time?" he starts.

She cuts him off. "Less alcohol."

"Less alcohol," he agrees.

More sounds of movement. He almost tells her to quit it.

"Should we get up?" she asks tiredly.

 _Hell no_. But he waves a hand towards her, all, _you can if you like but I think I'm just gonna stay right here seeing as how it's Saturday, and we're not on call, and we totally caught the bad guy yesterday and, hey, maybe I'm gonna pass out, or maybe I'm just gonna fall asleep again, but either way..._ His hand falls back down.

"Yeah," says Ziva. She sighs. "Me too."

  


* * *

  


Soft touches. Skin on skin, gentle and slow and with just the faintest sensation of fingernails.

He hums something nonsensical under his breath and tightens his grip on the sheet beneath his hand.

Machines beeping. Rubber-soled shoes on linoleum. Conversations, somewhere. He's in a hospital, he realises, remembers. He's --

 _Ziva_.

Opening his eyes, he finds her awake and watching him, a furrowed little frown on her features like she can't quite work out why they're here.

"You're gonna be okay," he says, the words rasping a little. "Full ninja strength guaranteed. Doctor's promise."

Her frown deepens. "Tony --" she says.

He blinks, slow and sleepy. "My promise, too."

His promise. His. Just one of...

Suddenly he feels very confused, very lost, his thoughts scattering and falling and his chest aching hard and fast and _sore_ , just like it did when he saw her drop --

Somewhere off to the side, a machine starts to beep faster. He winces.

"Shh," she says then, standing. She leans over him and brushes her lips over his forehead, her hand still on his, fingers stroking across his knuckles, thumb worrying the edge of the tape holding down his IV. "Sleep."

He can't not.

  


* * *

  


Even though he knows they don't have long enough for a nap, that Gibbs and McGee'll be back with the court order before they can even dream of some REM -- _shiny, happy people_ , his brain trips tiredly -- he can't resist sliding down until he's sitting with his back propped uncomfortably against the side of the van's rear tyre.

"Get up," says Ziva, looking down at him.

He reaches up and snags one of her belt loops with his finger. "Get down," he says, tugging.

She slaps at his hand. "Gibbs --"

"Is not here."

"Tony --"

"Is here. And is tired. And really, really, _really_ wants just five minutes of --"

She drops without warning and his elbow jars before he can pull his finger free from her pants. She settles beside him, her arm pressing against his.

He blinks at her. "You're down."

She blinks back. "You told me to."

 _Right_. So he did. Looking away, he stares off at... something. Nothing. Everything. He yawns.

Ziva's head brushes his shoulder.

He yawns again.

His head touches Ziva's; settles against hers.

She --

  


* * *

  


It's been a long day and a longer night and he's almost, _almost_ asleep when he feels her shift.

"Should go," she mumbles.

"Mmm."

Across the room, Cary Grant is still wooing Rosalind Russell. Closer, Ziva is wriggling against him, turning onto her other side so that she's facing him and not the TV. Forced to move with her on the couch, he shifts just enough until he's mostly on his back and she's mostly on his chest and his left hand can find her hip, anchoring her against him. He yawns.

"Tony," she says, sleepy and a little cross sounding. Her right hand makes a fist where it rests on his chest. "S'late."

And if he knew what time it was, that might actually mean something. "Five more minutes," he promises.

"Mmm."

Her leg stretches a little further over his, and his hand slides down off her hip and onto her thigh. She sighs; he relaxes.

Four minutes left, maybe. Or three. Getting up and leaving, he thinks, would probably be easier if he didn't kinda like falling asleep with Ziva like this. Like, _a lot_. And the more it keeps happening (five nights in twice as many weeks), the more he keeps _wanting_ it to happen. It reminds him of how easy their friendship can be when neither of them are thinking about it too much, and a little of that summer when Gibbs was in Mexico and they used to hang out together more often than not. Her body seems to fit just so against his, and her curves are the right balance between soft and firm, and ever since her last broken nose she doesn't even seem to snore nearly half as bad as she used to. Even his nightmares are easier to handle when he can feel her in his arms, still breathing and living and _real_ , as he wakes.

She rubs her face on his shirt, her nose digging into his chest, and he squeezes her thigh briefly. Her hand unclenches from its fist and smoothes up to grip at the open collar of his shirt, her fingers curling around the fabric.

"'Kay," she slurs without warning, "you can stay..." and he huffs out a sound that's almost a chuckle, his head turning towards hers. He can just see her face, and her eyes are closed.

He yawns again. "'Kay."

Cary proposes to Rosalind. Tony lets his eyes drift shut. Ziva's hold tightens on his shirt.

They fall.

  


* * *

The End

**Author's Note:**

> ORIGINAL URL: <http://anr.livejournal.com/497425.html>
> 
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